The theme of wheel, vehicle, to me the most mysterious and intriguing of human contraptions, and spiritual entanglements associated with it, offer intrinsic metaphor of existence. Dreamlike constructs, primitive and frail in their execution and use of organic materials, they refer back to the origins of travel and to the dominance of automobiles in contemporary society. In their fragility they express the psychological toll we pay for living in a world which at every moment seems to be obsessed with relentless mobility. In composition they seem to many viewers like spatial drawings, reduced to bare essentials and bizarre in their non-functionality, as if time and motion were suspended from within their very essence.
These evolved along with drawings in attempt to interpret visually the mysteries of harmony and spiritual presence of sound permeating space. Maybe silent witnesses of past voices, embodiments of unknown resonances, still imbued with energy to be aware of.
Emotional divides, virtual voids between substances, fragments of faith are themes of this category of my sculpture, having been explored in drawings before taking shape as spatial metaphors. What is actually spanning the space here and the space beyond? Is it our concept of destination or is it a real thing? Would we be ever able to traverse back? Will we find the bridges of the past again?
Vulnerable It
Posing heat-tempered steel against cotton fiber, menacing blades against organic shapes speaks of anxiety and emotional distress. Metal blades swaying in the wind, touching, wounding, are both threats and bearers of meaning encrypted in the composition.
Are they tattooing our memory permanently or do they recede in time? Would the metaphor be able to restore some dignity to this vulnerable creature calling itself human
Elements of nature
Fleeting perceptions of constantly flowing nature are our destiny, leaving us with visual residue, spatial echoes. Are we in tune with natural phenomena enough to survive unharmed? Are we part of them or are we distancing ourselves from them, not seeing our eyes? Is there some other, rather metaphorical dimension to them which we are not aware of yet?
Some of these sculptures are allusions of earth memorizing human intervention and of indelible traces we impose on our natural and social environment.
Emotional gravity seeking focus, not always palpable and maybe entirely woven out of dreams - where the mythical innocence is? Something is always winding the spiral of desire for comfort away and beyond.
Traversing space having soul as the only limb, tracing some real or imaginary trajectories - do they have destinations as they have departure points? They must have, since we are always moving, whereabouts known or presumed.
Is chronological time ever reconciled with psychological time? How does time present itself in spatial metaphor, how does it weave through conventional coordinates?
What defines the space in front of and the space behind the gate? Is it the gate itself or our awareness of it? Is the gate dividing or connecting, merging?
In sleepless nights the world, ostensibly known, shows its shadows, darker or brighter, bizarre because yet not seen. Time passing at other than its conventional pace shapes the field of consciousness with ruthless tools. Can we still redeem some tranquility out of it by reading a humble metaphor of this experience? Certainly we cannot dismiss this kind of awareness, it is part of our being.